


Run Away Like Mercury

by 221blackandwhitestripes



Series: The Sound Of Your Heart [5]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Ed's losing it, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Nightmares, Nothing is ever happy for them, Regret, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: Oswald’s gaping mouth, his shivering hands, the blood; everywhere, crimson spilling and soaking the sheets.Ed’s aim always had been abysmal.





	Run Away Like Mercury

**Author's Note:**

> It's 7:18 am. I stayed up all night to finish this. Please be happy. Ia m so tire.  
> Also, sorry. Nobody deserves to be sad. Side note: I'm sad right now, so at least we can be sad together.
> 
> Song of choice is [Sorry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9_BsjMi4bM) by _Nothing But Thieves_

_You might kill me with desire_   
_Wind me tighter than a wire_   
_It's something that you do to me_   
_I run away like mercury_   
_And I know you think it's rough_   
_When you're try'na patch us up_   
_And I say ‘honey, what is love?’_   
_You just say I drink too much_   
_Maybe I'm defective_   
_Or maybe I'm dumb_   
_I'm sorry, so sorry for what I've done_   
_Maybe I’m bad natured_   
_Or maybe I’m young_   
_I’m sorry, so sorry for what I’ve done_

Everything had been _so_ perfect.

Ed had watched Oswald slowly drift off to sleep, his defences lowering as the line of his shoulders relaxed, breathing slowing. Ed couldn’t help but wish he could see Oswald’s face, trying to conjure the image of fluttering eyelashes and twitching lips, all features expressionless and calm under the throws of unconsciousness.

His imagination wasn’t enough, but there was nothing Ed could do, so he contented himself with observing what little he could; raven hair and back muscles. His eyelids drooped every so often before snapping open again as Ed resolved to stay awake.

 _“Don’t bother.”_ Oswald's voice floated like a ghost, and it took Edward a second to realize it was coming from behind him rather than in front.

“Why not?” Ed asked, turning over reluctantly to eye Oswald's dripping mirage.

 _“Because,”_ Oswald began, rolling his eyes as he took a seat next to him, a scowl pulling at Ed's lips as he watched the river water seep into his bedsheets. _“You're already asleep.”_

“O _h.” Ed swallowed thickly, sweat prickling his skin as he tilted his head to regard Oswald fully._

_“If I didn't know any better, I’d say you're a little disappointed,” Oswald told him, lips dancing an illegible tango that made Ed’s head spin. Ed considered Oswald’s words, mulling them over. He supposed that, in a way, Oswald was right. Ed hadn’t spent many of his waking moments in contentedness, but Oswald had always been the exception to that. He wanted to soak up as much of that time as he could, not fall asleep and miss out on that pure bubble of joy that expanded his chest and released every knot tied into his muscles. All in all; he was disappointed._

_“You should be,” Oswald continued, fiddling with some seaweed hanging over his shoulder with abject curiosity. “I doubt this is going to be nearly as much fun as last time was.”_

_“What?” Ed asked, throat drying up. He coughed, grains of sand filling his mouth with each heave, spilling across the bedsheets and, subsequently, Not-Oswald’s dripping suit._

_“Although…” Oswald continued, as if unconcerned by Ed’s predicament. “We do have a lot more new material to work with.”_

_“What do you mean?” Ed asked, the words floating strangely in the air like heavy rain-clouds._

_Oswald smiled, sharp and vampiric in nature, freezing Ed’s heart, the cold spreading through his body in seconds. “I’m so glad you asked.” Ed shivered to his core._

_A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder and Ed’s heart stopped, a long beep sounding through the air like a dying heart monitor. Claws ripped in like wolves and Ed turned with them, trying to prevent them from sinking in any deeper. He tried to scream, but all he could do was open his mouth, dry, hoarse air the extent he managed. The other Oswald smiled as he finally faced him. Ed’s chest, for a moment, was set to ease by the familiar impishness. The trepidation returned, however, when Oswald used his remaining hold on him to pull Ed in, pressing their lips together open-mouthed and hot._

_Ed wanted it to be real._

_“It **was** real, remember,” the other Oswald whispered, voice eerie and hollow as it hissed through the air, all the more present with Ed’s eyelids closed and all light blocked out._

_His attention was re-diverted when the Oswald in his arms began parting Ed’s lips with his tongue. Ed felt his tongue caress smooth, cold metal as Oswald pushed a bullet into his mouth, lips pulling up in a would-be smirk as Ed accepted the bullet happily. Ed turned his head and spat the bullet away, turning back to continue, only to stop dead in his tracks._

_Oswald’s gaping mouth, his shivering hands, the blood; everywhere, crimson spilling and soaking the sheets._

_Ed’s aim always had been abysmal._

_“What did you **do**?” Ed spat, horrified, turning back to the other Oswald._

_Oswald smiled blandly, his pale eyes all the colder for it. “I did nothing. That was all you, friend.”_

_Ed turned back to see Oswald sinking into the sheets, cotton billowing up and down like waves, Oswald’s mouth forever opened in a wordless scream._

_“ **Stop it!** ” Edward yelled._

_“Why? Seemed to me that you enjoyed it the first time.” Oswald pointed out. “You **were** the one who pulled the trigger.”_

_“Yes, but that-that was because of-” Ed floundered._

_“Not to mention,” Oswald interrupted pointedly, “that you tried to get rid of me again when you threw those pills away.” Oswald leant in conspiratorially, his breath like ice against Ed’s ear, making him shiver. “You didn’t even want to do it.”_

_Ed’s mouth opened and shut, nothing but shiny coloured bubbles floating out. He watched as they landed on his pillowcase and popped, staining it further._

_“Don’t try to deny it,” Oswald warned, eyes flashing like fireworks, tiny sparks bursting forth to burn Ed’s stinging cheeks._

_“I had to do it, though,” Ed reasoned, something hot welling in his eyes. It steadily burned, growing to scorching levels until steam started to rise from behind his eyelids. “I **had** to.”_

_Oswald pursed his lips before sighing. “And I suppose Oswald had to do what he did as well. You both betrayed each other.” The tears were real this time, fat drops landing in Ed’s lap, slowly creating a lake between his thighs. “But that’s not what I want to know.”_

_“What is it then?” Ed choked out, wiping his eyes roughly._

_“If you could change things, if there was a universe where you didn’t have to do what you did, would you have still done it?” Oswald asked. It took Edward a few moments to puzzle through that._

_“...No?” He eventually answered._

_“And do you regret it?” Oswald prompted._

_“I-I-” Edward gaped as Oswald grabbed his chin, nails digging into his skin so harshly they felt like razor blades._

_“Do. You. Regret. It?” Oswald repeated, squeezing and squeezing until Ed was sure his head would pop. He’d seen it happen once and it was not pretty, although quite fun from an outside perspective._

_“Yes,” he gasped. Ed briefly wondered if someone had spilled hot lava down his front because he was suddenly, inexplicably warm._

_“But what does that mean?”_

_“I don’t know,” Ed sobbed. “B-but... please, just bring him back.”_

(Why was he so warm?)

_“Okay.” Oswald twirled a finger and the other Oswald appeared beside him instantaneously._

_“Oswald,” Ed breathed, actual air filling his lungs again as Oswald grinned._

_“You always were a damn good P.A.” Oswald’s grin turned ice cold and ceramic-like, his eyes flat as his expression remained entire still._

_“O-Oswald?”_

(Why was he so warm?)

_“I am your king, Edward,” Oswald responded flatly. “I will not have you disrespecting me.”_

_“What is this? Why is he--What have you done to him?” Ed asked, his throat cracking around something sharp. He reached into his mouth, forcing his finger down his throat to pull out what appeared to be part of an eggshell. It disintegrated moments later._

(Why was he so warm?)

_“What, don’t you like it?” The other Oswald hummed thoughtfully, taking a moment to scrape away some barnacles from his scalp with blackened nails. “How about this, then?”_

_“You, Edward Nygma, are boring me.” Oswald growled, suddenly animate and wretchedly furious as inhumanely strong hands forced Ed back down onto the bed. Ed was acutely aware of just how little he was wearing. “You always were so easy to push around.”_

_“I. Hate. You.” The words ground out between his teeth as he tried desperately to contain them. Still, they escaped into the night like wild things, like two men pressed against a damp brick wall with blood still staining their hands._

_“I heard you before. Ed,” Oswald growled, one hand digging into Ed’s chest to keep him pinned, claws digging in like he was searching for Ed’s non-existent soul._

_“You’re the one who wanted things to be ‘completely casual’ with ‘no feelings’,” Ed recited, words frothing in bubbles and sea-spray. They were overlooking a river-turned-deathbed, mourning more than the loss of a life. “So, really, I’m just giving you what you want.”_

_“Hush, Eddie,” Oswald interrupted. “We both know you’re above saying such stupid things.”_

_“I told you not to call me that,” Again, again, again, why couldn’t he ever have control over anything?_

(Why was he so warm?)

_“La la la, can’t hear you,” Oswald sang, something deep and distorting in his voice like a broken autotune mic._

_“Please, please,” Ed begged, trying to push him away, to sit up, to get **away** from this horrible, reality-infused nightmare._

_“What’s wrong, Eddie?” The other Oswald cocked his head, peering down at him knowingly. “Struggling to let go of past resentments? I get that.”_

_“Please! Please!” Ed cried, tears streaming down like lava from a deep sea volcano, colouring everything disaster-red._

(Why was he so warm?)

_“Tell you what,” the other Oswald began, batting his wet eyelashes and subtly ringing out his tie over Ed’s already shivering body. (Splash, splash, splash until, one day, Ed would be drowning too.) “How about we make it louder?”_

_“God, you’re a menace!” Ed shouted, but he was almost entirely sure he’d said the words before._

_“La, la, la, can’t hear you!” Oswald sang back, rolling his eyes. Suddenly, a wall of sound hit Ed’s ears and he smacked his palms over them in a desperate attempt to protect himself, to no avail._

_“I hate you!” Ed screamed over the noise._

_“I love you.” Clear, piercing through the incessant mix of drums, words and the slow drip of water._

_“I heard you before, Ed.” Both Oswalds looked at him and smiled and Ed wondered where, exactly, the words were coming from._

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“Isabella was my everything, and you took her from me.” His mouth had started to work on it’s own again, the words rising up to join the rest of the cacophony._

_“I don’t believe you.” Oswald drolled, a waterfall of nails in his eyes._

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_“Isabella was my everything, and you took her from me,” Edward repeated, his voice a broken record that he couldn’t release._

_“Isabella was my everything, and you took her from me.”_

(Why was he so warm?)

_“I did it for love,” the Oswald next to him claimed, voice soft and sincere._

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“I. Don't. Love. You,” Ed told him, and he didn’t know if it was blood or tears pouring from his eyes._

_“I don't believe you.” Dark and cloying like an omniscient church bell._

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_“This will be the cold-blooded murder of someone you love,” Oswald told him, both of them dripping wet now as their voices cracked, broke and shattered. FRAGILE painted itself over their foreheads in big red letters._

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“One cannot deny love,” Oswald told him, and yes, he definitely said that, Ed could never forget the moment when the truth was finally revealed, could never forget the depth of joy he’d seen in Oswald’s eyes. “Ed, I love you. I know you believe that now.”_

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_No, no, no! Ed wanted to shout at him, but apparently, his thoughts weren’t part of the script._

(Why was he so warm?)

_“You need me Edward Nygma. Just as I need you.” Oswald told him, voice shakingly bitter and hurt._

_“Enough!” Ed shouted, cold metal slamming against his hand even as it stayed clamped over his ear._

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“I admit that killing you killed a part of me, but-” Ed began, voice a guttural growl._

_“You cannot have one without the other,” Oswald interrupted, tears there too, and Ed **hated** it._

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

**__** _“I’ve always wanted to see you eat a bullet,” Ed told him. It sounded like a lie._

(Why was he so warm?)

_“You just can't resist, can you?” Oswald laughed at him, and Ed took a deep breath, closing his eyes as a hot breath ghosted down his neck._

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“Ed, I love you. I know you believe that now.”_

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_“Love is about sacrifice,” Ed told him, his voice shaking with his full-body shudder._

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“One cannot deny love.”_

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_“We both know you’re above saying such stupid things.” Oswald told him seriously._

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“I. Don't. Love. You,” Ed spat. (Maybe he would mean it this time.)_

_“I don't believe you.”_

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_“I. Hate. You,” Ed spat. (Maybe he would mean it this time.)_

_“La, la, la, can’t hear you!”_

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“Stay.” A gasp, almost relieving._

_“I heard you before, Ed.”_

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_“Stay.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud._

_“I heard you before, Ed.”_

_**Thump, thump, thump.** _

_“Stay.” (Please, please, don’t do this.)_

_“I heard you before, Ed.”_

_**Drip, drip, drip.** _

_“Stay.” He hadn’t wanted Oswald to know that he still… he still..._

_“I heard you before-”_

(Why was he so warm?)

_“ **Stop!** ” Finally, the words were his own. Ed panted, breaking his palms from his ears as the noise died and reality reset itself. His eyes closed in his relief, his head tilting back for him to gulp down larger swallows of air._

(Why was he so warm?)

_“Didn’t like that much, did ya?” Oswald asked amusedly, scrunching up his nose with faux sympathy. A malicious smile stretched across his features and Edward shivered, but he didn’t feel scared. He wasn’t sure how he felt at all._

_Ed looked around, searching._

_“Where’s the other one?” Ed asked, eyes widened by burnt-out matchsticks._

_“Oh, the other one,” Oswald’s lips twisted into a smirk, his features’ movement’s snake-like. “He’s over there.” He gestured to a position higher up the now over-stretched mattress._

_There was Oswald, laying back against the cotton sheets, panting softly as he stared far off into the distance._

_“What-” Ed asked, leaning over him to meet his dazed gaze._

_“Good boy, Eddie,” Oswald mumbled, voice still bizarrely blurry. “Such a good boy. So good.”_

_Ed’s cheeks flooded as he recalled just how this memory had come about._

(Why was he so warm?)

_“Say it!” the other Oswald hissed, jabbing him in the ribs._

_“Thanks,” Ed said, if only to save his bones._

_“Really, Edward,” Oswald told him, “you were wonderful. A dream.”_

_Ed’s breath shuddered out, and he felt his eyes inexplicably fill with tears._

_“It’s funny,” the other Oswald told him, leaning forward so water dripped from the tip of his nose onto Ed’s shoulder. “Because we all know what you’d said before that.”_

_Something hot and heavy suddenly filled his mouth, and Ed had to strain not to gag, a few tears leaking from his eyes anyway. He pulled off, his mouth moving of its own accord, reciting; “Oswald, it’s fine,” Oswald raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully. “Remember, I deserve this.”_

_Ed choked again, something high and tight in his throat, making him ache._

(Why was he so warm?)

_“And after that?” Oswald prompted, dripping over him as he leaned in again. “What you didn’t say, but wanted to.”_

_Ed took a deep shuddering breath. “He was beautiful,” Ed began, gazing down at a once more strung-out Oswald, staring at the ceiling. “I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t think he’d-” Ed swallowed around a lump, but it remained. “He wouldn’t have-”_

_Something rose from his chest, spilling from his mouth, and it took Edward a few moments to realize it was a sob. In a startling moment of kindness, Oswald’s sodden arms slid around him, pulling Ed’s face into his shoulder._

_“Shh, shh,” he soothed, rocking Ed ever so slightly. “You do know what this means, don’t you.”_

_“No,” Ed sobbed out, his ribs hurting with each of his shuddering gasps for air._

_“That’s okay,” Oswald’s soothing tone remained, “-you’ll know soon enough.”_

_“What does that mean?” Ed mumbled into the soaked fabric of Oswald’s pinstripe suit jacket._

_“You keep wondering why you’re so warm,” Oswald reminded him, pulling back to look him in his eye._

_“Why?” Ed asked breathlessly._

_“Because, you need to touch him.”_

Edward shivered awake. 

It took him a few blissfully ignorant moments to blink the world into focus. But, when he did, he found himself facing the back of one softly snoring Oswald Cobblepot’s head. Ed’s arms were completely entwined around him, plastering his chest to Oswald’s back.

_You need to touch him._

Ed extricated himself with as much grace as he could muster when his heart was thumping at the rate it was in his chest, shaking out his limbs as he rolled out of bed. The world was marginally blurry and it took Ed a few moments to locate his glasses, happily latching onto the first distraction that reared its head.

But then the glasses were on his face, and he could see again, and with one glance at Oswald’s sleep-heavy body, it all came rushing over him like a river-water tidal wave. It all seemed so inevitable, the death of a man already hip-deep in a pile of quicksand. He was falling faster than a freaking snowflake, and Ed had a feeling the landing would be much less graceful.

 _Clothes,_ he decided, _I need clothes._

He scrounged around, ignoring the dirty pile on the floor for what little he had in his wardrobe, fingers doing up buttons quickly. It was over again, and he was left back in the pit.

_“I hate you.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I heard you before, Ed.”_

“No, no, no, no, no,” Ed muttered to himself, slamming the wardrobe door, his legs moving of their own volition until he was pacing back and forth in front of the bed’s iron footboard, pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips to feel them tremble.

He needed to concentrate, needed to find a solution to prevent things from going too far. Perhaps the Oswald in his dreams was wrong, and Ed wasn’t… didn’t need…

Anyway, things could be fixed, a panacea could be found. There was simply a small defect in his system, and once Ed had that sorted out, they could go back to the way things were before. The way things were _supposed_ to be.

 _Really?_ A dark voice whispered in his mind, and Ed quickly closed his eyes in case any spectres had come back to haunt him. _You still want to carry on sleeping with the man who killed your girlfriend?_

But that had been a trade, Ed could see that now: One broken heart for another, equal in every way. No, he had to figure out a way to keep the peace, had to list out his options before things got out of hand.

Ed quickly flitted around the room, nabbing a pen from the jar and a notepad from his kitchen drawer. Next, he needed a contained environment where he could work in peace. Looking across the room, he noticed the gap between his sofa and the wall, a place he had used for scheming years before. He squeezed himself into place, settling down. Clicking the pen, he began to scribble, jotting down ideas as they came.

There were a lot of them, not all of them worthy of true consideration but they were important enough to acknowledge either way. One of them was to kill Oswald again and to try to make it permanent this time, but it seemed illogical and Ed would rather not be troubled with his hallucinations during the waking hours once more. Besides, sex with Oswald was good. Clearly, that was the real reason he wanted Oswald to stick around.

Secondly, he could simply confront Oswald about his burgeoning feelings/desires. This wasn’t really an option either, not with Ed’s inability to properly understand, let alone articulate, what it was he was actually feeling. Not to mention the fact that Oswald probably hated him. Worthless to one, priceless to two and all that.

Thirdly, Ed could drink himself stupid and forget all of this had happened. That seemed like his best option at this point, but Ed wasn’t sure he had any alcohol in the premises at all, and probably not enough to induce the desired stupor.

“There has to be something,” Ed muttered to himself. “There _has_ to be.”

He flipped the notepad to the next page, chewing the tip of his pen in thought.

“Perhaps there’s a way to get Oswald to stop this,” Ed theorised. Perhaps if he could see Oswald as something other than his alluring, villainous self, Ed would be able to prevent any further… _feelings_ from emerging.

“I hate him,” Edward reminded himself, “I hate him.”

He wrote up a new header: _**Reasons I hate ~~Os~~ Penguin.**_

“He never calls me Riddler,” Ed muttered, pen shaping out the words. “He-he’s _whiny_ , self-obsessed, he is incapable of love…” Ed continued to list things, pen moving like lightning across the page until he’d filled it, turning over a new page to continue it. His foot tapped wildly, his heart beating faster with a strange concoction of anxiety and rage, the pace of his breathing matching his wild-running ink.

“And he killed Isabella,” Ed hissed, remembering that it was supposed to be important. “And that time he said he-”

“Uh, Ed?”

Ed’s gaze snapped up. It appeared to be Oswald. He was only wearing his trousers. Ed wondered whether it was the real him, or if his dreams had come back to haunt him. Or perhaps he’d remained asleep the entire time and this was another nightmare he’d been entrapped within.

Either way, it would be best that Oswald didn’t see the notepad.

As subtle as he could be, Ed dropped it to the floor, sliding it under the sofa and out of sight. Oswald continued to stare at him.

“Edward, are you… okay?” Oswald eventually asked. It seemed like a very ‘Oswald’ thing to do. Perhaps it really was him.

“I…” How could he be sure though? All the Oswalds Ed had seen had seemed to be perfect replicas, perfect, beautiful replicas. How could he begin to know? Ed valiantly tried to decipher it, blinking at Oswald’s image again and again to check for some kind of change or distortion.

“Here,” Oswald leant forward, offering his hand. Cautiously, Ed accepted, allowing himself to be pulled upright. But then Oswald stepped back, pulling Ed with him, and the light from the window suddenly caught upon the mottled, silvered scar on Oswald’s torso and Ed felt himself sink back down to the floor again. Oswald quietly guided his body to the couch, sitting down with him. Ed felt like he was watching from very far away.

That scar. Ed had put it there, had painted Oswald with a bullet, had marred him, changed him. It was all his fault, he could’ve had Oswald back then, could have had anything he wanted. Instead, he’d shot him without remorse.

“Better?” Oswald asked (it had to be him, only he could have the scar). 

Tiny wires seemed to be controlling Ed’s expressions because he could do nothing as his lips pulled down into a frown and he sniffed like a schoolboy getting told off for getting mud all over his shoes.

“Oswald, I-” _am sorry._

“A hug?” Oswald offered, cutting him off cheerfully. “For old times sake?”

Ed found himself nodding, falling into Oswald’s arms like a damsel in distress. He buried his nose in the crook of Oswald’s neck. He smelled faintly of Ed’s sheets and manuka honey. No traces of blood or river water. Ed took comfort in that. 

(God, he was sorry, so very, very sorry)

Oswald began to rock them back and forth, quietly shushing him. After a few minutes, Ed felt the unnoticed tension in his shoulders release, his breaths evening out and his heart rate returning to normal (Or as normal as it could be with Oswald holding him so closely). Oswald’s hand crept up into his hair, and Ed finally felt like he was home.

It all stopped rather abruptly when his phone rang.

Oswald let go and Ed’s heart dropped, but he snatched up the phone anyway, flipping it open.

“Hello?” he greeted.

 _“Ed!”_ the all-too-familiar voice of Barbara Kean snapped, loud enough that Edward was genuinely concerned that Oswald would overhear. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve had-”

Ed quickly pulled the phone from his ear, covering the receiver to block out Barbara’s screeching.

“Oswald, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take this call. I’ll just… pop into the bathroom, if that’s alright?” Ed looked at him, praying he wouldn’t question it.

“Of course,” Oswald answered cheerfully enough. “I should get dressed anyway.”

“Oh.” If Oswald got dressed, he would leave, and if he left, Edward would be alone, and if he was alone, he might… “Just… don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Okay,” Oswald agreed. Ed hurried out of the room, practically feeling Barbara’s increasing irritation burning through the phone and scorching his hand. Filled with trepidation, he raised the phone to his ear once more.

 _“-you even fucking listening to me?”_ Barbara shouted.

“Of course,” Ed replied coolly, swallowing down his nerves to maintain his wits. He quickly went through the possibilities of what Barbara could possibly be mad about before selecting the most eligible candidate. “I promise I will explain everything soon. I’ve just been busy.”

 _“Busy?”_ Barbara screeched, ever the embodiment of nails on a chalkboard. _“You disappear for days on end, show up saying that a **court** of **owls** have some kind of weapon they intend to use against all of Gotham, and then disappear all over again? How can you possibly explain that?”_

“I can, I promise,” Ed assured her.

 _“Well, go on then,”_ Barbara requested primly. _“Explain.”_

“Not now,” Ed quickly insisted. “This thing, it’s…” Oswald without his shirt, moving around in the other room with measured steps, “-it’s complicated. How about I come down to the club around four o’clock? I think that it’s for the best that I just meet with you in person.” Ed subtly opened the door to check whether Oswald was listening in, or worse; locating and reading the notebook he’d hidden beneath the sofa.

 _“If you’re sure…”_ Barbara mused doubtfully.

“Everything is perfectly fine,” Ed assured her, gritting his teeth.

 _“Okay, then,”_ Barbara chirped, abruptly bright and cheerful as she sang into the phone. _“Goodbye, Eddie!”_

“Yes, goodbye.”

Ed sighed as he hung up, finally walking back into the main room and catching Oswald’s eye. “Sorry, that took so long.” Not the apology he’d initially intended, but good enough. “Do you want breakfast or something?”

“No, no,” Oswald insisted quickly. “I think it’s best that I get back to my people. I have a couple rogues to round up.”

“I can’t pretend to understand what you mean by that, but I wish you well.” Ed remarked, trying to puzzle it out in his head.

 **Rogue:** _noun_

_1\. a dishonest or unprincipled man._

a person whose behaviour one disapproves of but who is nonetheless likeable or attractive.

_2\. an elephant or other large wild animal living apart from the herd and having savage or destructive tendencies._

a person or thing that behaves in an aberrant or unpredictable way, typically with damaging or dangerous effects.

a seedling or plant deviating from the standard variety.

Honestly, it could’ve been anything.

“I’ll see you soon. I hope,” Ed said, remembering the conversation.

“We’ll see,” Oswald replied. It cut a little bit. Was Oswald truly considering finishing this? Would that be the last time Edward saw him? If so, he wished he could draw it out, memorise it and replay it, again and again in his mind, burn the intricate details onto his retinas; the smile lines by Oswald's eyes, the fluffy mess of his hair, the wrinkles in his shirt.

“It was fun,” Ed finally concluded, gravely understating it. Surprisingly, Oswald opted to stalk forward and take Ed’s face in his hands before kissing him soundly on the lips.

“Punishment isn’t over yet,” he murmured, grinning up at him. Ed stared back, wondering if that would be his last kiss with Oswald. He wished it had never ended. Oswald turned and left. Ed wondered if he felt the same wire connection between them, coils of copper that could snap so easily under too much strain, or if pulled at too tightly.

Snap, snap, snap, like heartstrings in the night.

Ed took a deep breath and pushed Oswald as far from his mind as possible. He had a meeting to get ready for and a speech to prepare, not to mention a lie to conduct. Barbara couldn’t find out about Oswald.

Ed couldn’t watch him die again.

_And I'm the t-shirt that I wear_   
_Pick the thorns out of my hair_   
_I broke your heart so carelessly_   
_But made the pieces part of me_   
_And now it hurts what we've become_   
_'Cause you taught me how to love_   
_It's me who taught you how to stop_   
_And you just say I drink too much_   
_Maybe I'm defective_   
_Or maybe I'm dumb_   
_I'm sorry, so sorry for what I've done_   
_Maybe I'm bad natured_   
_Or maybe I'm young_   
_I'm sorry, so sorry for what I've done_

**Author's Note:**

> What will happen next? I have no clue (jk I have like ten parts already planned out for this fic, get ready). I'm tired, so good night. Any and all kudos/comments I see when I awaken will be greatly appreciated. I love you all so much. I'm sappy as hell when I'm tired. Anyway, once more, goodnight.


End file.
